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whipping through the twigs and the cedar fronds. " Don't
shoot," he told the men. "Don't shoot unless thev trv the
ford.1'                                                                   * '

Then, after a little while, after he was sure that the men
at the pike had gone, he heard a voice say, soberly, " I g;ot

"What?"' Mr. Munn demanded. "Where are you?" He
had not recognised the voice; a dull, flat, aimless voice It had
been, saying, " I got hit."

" Here," the voice answered.   " Here I am."

Mr. Munn moved gropingly in the darkness of the cedars,

" Strike a match, somebody," another voice said.

A match flared, then another. A man holding a match was
kneeling beside a shape on the ground. Mr. Munn saw that.
The match flickered quickly out. He moved toward the spot
where it had been. They struck more matches, the other
men, and leaned over the shape on the ground. Then they
managed to make a torch.

The man on the ground, Mr. Munn saw, was Benton

"Where's he hit?" Mr. Munn demanded.

" Up in the leg," a man said, " just in the leg," He held a
clasp knife and was trying to slit the trousers off Benton
Todd's leg. The trousers were sodden with blood. Another
man was fumbling at the boot, and muttering irritably, " God
damn it, God damn it, can't you get that light closer?" But
the man with the torch did not hear, apparently, for he
was leaning forward with his gaze fixed on Benton Todd's

" It didn't hurt much," Benton Todd said detachedly. Mr,
Munn did not recognize the voice. "But I didn't know it
was going to bleed so much/*

" Don't you worry, boy, don't you worry," the man cutting
off the trousers uttered, " well get it off, well get you fixed up
in no time. No time a-tall."

Benton Todd seemed to be paying no attention, now, to the
men about Mm. He was looking upward, beyond the torch